


Why Red?

by SecondFromTheRight



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry's POV, Covers Seasons 1-3, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondFromTheRight/pseuds/SecondFromTheRight
Summary: Barry's noticed that Iris likes to wear red.And he’d stood with her at STAR Labs, her in her scarlet red outfit and he in his, in his Flash suit. Was it deliberate that time? Did she mean something? Did she even realise they matched? They matched, the two of them, but she was going on a date with someone not him. Why had she chosen red?





	Why Red?

**Author's Note:**

> I've just always been really interested in the choice of Iris' very red outfits.
> 
> There isn't any dialogue in this. I find dialogue scenes easier to write typically, but it felt more of a 'Barry's thoughts' subject.

The first time he noticed he hadn’t been able to really pay attention. He’d had a room full of poisoned people, Iris included, to treat with an antidote and his dad was missing, taken by The Trickster. He couldn’t really afford to look, couldn’t really think about it, but he had noticed – it was Iris. Red. Like, deep, bold, scarlet red. She stood out in the room against everybody else. She always stood out in a room to him but that night he was convinced everybody thought the same thing. He was pretty sure the only other red thing those guests had noticed that night was him. The two of them. That dress was long-sleeved and clinging to her figure. Low back, showing off her bare skin, her spine that he wanted to trail his fingers down. And her hair was up, off her neck and her shoulders.

He had wondered – she and him – or, she and The Flash had been still something at that point, even after the induced rage incident. She’d come to him for help about Mason, believed he’d listen to her when everybody else was just reassuring her that he was probably fine and she had nothing to worry about. She’d still trusted him – The Flash. She’d thanked him, and noticed how he’d been feeling that night. So was it deliberate? Had she been thinking about him? He was her Red Blur, after all. Colour-block red outfit. Why red?

There had been a couple of times when it was just one item of clothing – a top, a blazer. He decided he couldn’t really count that, though he noticed every time. But that was regular, just an item of clothing in an outfit – it wasn’t the full outfit; she hadn’t dedicated her entire appearance to red those times.

But the second time he really counted it was yet another night out, a date. With her Editor boss. The one he’d somehow encouraged her to date. She thanked him that day too. Standing there in another bright red dress. A different one this time, totally different. Sleeveless, with some movement to the skirt of it. And shorter, showing some of her thighs. And she had her leather jacket with it. Her hair had been down too. Different event, less formal than a City Hall outing. But still, it was an outfit with thought, with intent. So what was the thought, what was the intent?

This time she had known he was The Flash. She also knew about their potentially married future selves, and their Earth 2 married selves. She knew about her future article, the one of her apparently writing about him as the ‘Scarlet Speedster’. And he’d stood with her at STAR Labs, her in her scarlet red outfit and he in his, in his Flash suit. Was it deliberate that time? Did she mean something? Did she even realise they matched? They matched, the two of them, but she was going on a date with someone not him. Why had she chosen red?

Then red tights. That was new. He didn’t remember her wearing coloured tights before. Usually she didn’t even wear tights – he noticed her legs over the years, a lot, how could he not? She liked high socks, but not tights. So why had she chosen red ones? She’d specifically come with Joe to STAR Labs that day, wanting to offer help. Then Zoom had taken Wally and a bunch of bad followed. But even when Zoom had dropped him after he’d transferred his speed to him, he was still aware of Iris’ red tights as she tried to help him up. They weren’t as vibrant as her full outfits, as the dresses. They were more like the colour of the red of his suit.

Her top the night of their first kiss – her version of their first kiss – after he’d come back from Flashpoint, when he’d found her on the porch and took the chance to finally – fucking finally – start their relationship. Her top had been burned red. That one surely hadn’t meant much, it was just a top and she hadn’t known she was mirroring their other first kiss by sitting on the porch steps, but he still couldn’t help but noticing. It was too much of a thing now; now he looked for it. And her lips had matched the top, whatever make up it was she had on. Her wearing his colour.

Another not as vibrant time she chose to wear red was another one item time, but he really, really wanted to count it, because it was the first time it happened when they were together. She’d suddenly developed a bit of a habit of wearing his jacket. His dark red one – because of course it was his red one. He was pretty sure she had just been cold at first, and maybe it was more about him than her, more his choice than hers – it was his jacket after all. But she’d continue to wear it, the sleeves slightly pushed up. She looked just as amazing in it as every other outfit, as the more dressed up ones.

She’d sat with him and reassured him, promising to be there for him, with him. He’d told her he couldn’t do it without her. He couldn’t, he’d never been able to do. She was too much a part of him, mattered too much for him to ever be able to get anywhere without her. His jacket was similar to his suit colour too, a blunted red in comparison to those dresses. His jacket, his colour, wrapped around her because she was cold. He could smell her perfume on it for ages afterwards.

Another version of red dress was at Christmas. Not that bold, intense colour like the other dresses and he thought it was most likely more about the season than about him – Caitlin and HR were wearing reds too and he remembered staring at the Christmas tree with all its red baubles, at the red on the themed mugs of eggnog, even the red bow on Wally’s gift, but the dress was velvet. Special, unlike the others. He’d smoothed his hand over her again and again, feeling the material. It was the first time he’d been able to touch her as more than her friend as she wore full red and the material had made it so easy, his hand gliding over it, trying to distract himself from what he’d seen in the future, trying to remind himself that she was right there with him. He’d watched Joe with Cecile. Even Julian had come that day, Caitlin immediately greeting him and welcoming him. Everybody smiling, everybody together. Family. People in love, or in like at least. Happy pairings. He one half of one. He’d felt frustrated that he couldn’t let go and be that, like he’d wanted to be with her so long. Their first Christmas together. She’d sat on his lap, her legs over his and she’d known he was distracted, checked on him, had been patient with him. He’d held onto her, wrapping his arm around her and just watched her in her deep, deep red dress.

He’d brought her to the loft he’d leased, for them. The real start of them. A space fully for them as together Barry and Iris, not as kids who grew up together Barry and Iris, not as best friends only Barry and Iris, but finally together, in love and acknowledging it Barry and Iris. It was what he wanted. It was pretty much all he’d wanted. To go to bed with her, to know he was going to wake up with her. To know that every day was going to began and end with her. She’d questioned if the commitment was too much but he’d been there in that headspace, in love, in wanting to live with her for so long. He didn’t want to waste any more time. That image of a future pushing him forward to appreciate her standing in front of him still.

She’d stood there across the loft, the dress half covered by her coat, as he told her he’d brought her home, to their home. The loft was bare, ready to be filled with what they wanted to make of their lives together. It’d been the first time he’d seen her in their loft, standing there in that dress looking at him in amazement. It’d been the first time they’d made love in their loft too. He’d taken that coat off her shoulders, touched her where he couldn’t earlier, feeling that dress. For such occasion, red seemed so fitting, whatever the tone of it. It didn’t matter it wasn’t really bright like those other times, because it was still a version of red, and it was soft and it had clung to her shape and she’d looked incredible. And he’d needed her so much that night. To be reminded of their story, to remind him that it wasn’t going to end the way he’d seen. It was right it was red, any version of red, that it was that extra thing of them - maybe, hopefully. Something of them for him, at least. That dress had grounded him, revived him, assured him.

The third time he really counted a full, vibrant outfit he sadly couldn’t say was his favourite time because of everything else that had been going on at that time. Not that the other times were quiet, but this time he’d told her about her upcoming death. The STAR Lab Museum opening. Not a dress this time, a jumpsuit, but damn if she didn’t look just as good. He didn’t know jumpsuit’s could look that good. He’d caught their reflection too – he thought he even looked good with her. His grey against her red. It worked. It wasn’t her red with his red, but maybe it was better. Her outfit somehow gave life to his, brightened him.

He’d promised her he would protect her, he’d sworn it. Her tears had burned him. But he was glad he’d told her. She deserved to know, and the others were right - he really couldn’t it alone. They’d gone home that night, back to their loft. He’d undressed her, taking the bright red off her body and letting it fall to the ground as they reaffirmed how they felt about each other and what kept them both in this world – each other – through their bodies. He’d looked at the jumpsuit lying on the floor as she slept, him stroking her skin, up and down her spine like he’d always wanted to. He couldn’t sleep, still couldn’t get that image of Iris being murdered right in front of him out of his mind enough to find peace that would allow him to restfully sleep. But he’d touched her, felt her next to him, comforted himself that she was still here with him, that there was no way he’d allow events that would force her to not be next to him.

He’d stared at that jumpsuit. It was just so red, like that first dress. Vibrant and bold like she was. He’d used his speed to dash away from their bed and carefully hung up her jumpsuit in the closet. Maybe it would actually need to be dry-cleaned, but he wanted to take care of it in the meantime, put it away so it didn’t crease. He’d wondered if she’d ever wear it again or if it was too tainted with bad memory now. He’d taken the time to spy those other bright red dresses that had sat on his mind so much, as well as the not so red velvet one, fingering them briefly. Why red? Maybe she just liked red. Maybe it didn’t matter. Every one of those outfits and items now hung in their shared closet. Theirs. All the reds. Maybe he’d ask Cisco for another Flash suit. He’d argue for practical reasons – he could go to whatever danger needed him straight from home that way, but really, he just wanted to see it together with all of Iris’ reds.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to reply to every comment I've had, but I just wanted to say thank you to everybody reading and commenting. It's been really fun to write these and they've flowed a lot easier than I'd expected, making them even more fun to write.


End file.
